


Drifting and Waiting

by Basmathgirl



Series: On A Wing And A Prayer [3]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, H/C bingo, Hurt/Comfort, Mother-Son Relationship, Post-Episode: s04e17-e18 The End of Time, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-09-01 01:51:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8602510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basmathgirl/pseuds/Basmathgirl
Summary: It continues to be an anxious time for Donna. A definite sequel to Two Seconds Late.





	1. Out of the Darkness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Noliee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noliee/gifts).



> **Disclaimer:** all I own here is some angst but at least it’s all my own this time.  
>  **A/N:** encouragement supplied by both [Noliee](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Noliee) and [stinabeena](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/1801466/stinabeena); and written for the [hc_bingo](http://hc_bingo.livejournal.com/) challenge prompt " **shipwrecked** ".

It had been a long, exhausting night. As Donna stood by the window, looking at nothing in particular to while away the time waiting for her son to regain consciousness, her thoughts inevitably turned towards the Doctor. 

She often thought about how the Doctor coped without his precious ship, the TARDIS, being close by. Even on Krop Tor, orbiting the K37 Gem 5 black hole, he had been determined to climb down a good ten miles and retrieve it from the depths of goodness knew where. 

The upshot of this was, as plain as day, he couldn’t physically bear to be parted from the old girl. All of which rather made it strange that he had expected his duplicate to be able to easily be wrenched away from the TARDIS and dumped on a planet in an alternate dimension. Love conquers all, they might say, but it hadn’t cajoled the Doctor into staying there on Pete’s World, so why had he thought it was perfectly acceptable to leave their son there? 

True, he had an essential part of her DNA in the mix, but at the time Rose had been told the duplicate was exactly the same as the Doctor, but with a human heart. Some things just didn’t add up; and the greatest puzzle of all for Donna was the fact the Doctor hadn’t taken into consideration how much of a dilemma being away from the TARDIS would be for someone born there and who, you could argue, was not only formed and nurtured by the TARDIS, but also contained an element of her too. 

Yes, Donna would have definitely argued her son was part of the TARDIS when she had last been onboard, if it hadn’t been for the fact that the Doctor’s mind was taking over her head and threatening to smash it to smithereens.

With all these thoughts whirling around her mind, she stopped looking blankly out of the hospital window at the urban scene outside, and turned to consider the clinical room inside. They were still in Intensive Care, facing a few more hours until they could be moved to a more normal ward. Hooked up to monitors, an IV, and breathing apparatus, was the body of her son. At least they had removed the bulky tube down his throat and replaced it with a thin oxygen tube via his nose. The x-ray and MRI scans had shown extensive fractures throughout his body, but she had begged them to leave any casts until later. Even the nurses had been sceptical of this, let alone the consultant, so they had compromised with frequent checks to see if her son was in pain or suffering further problems from internal bleeding. 

He looked so small, frail and delicate as he lay in a drug induced coma. Well, the staff thought it was such a coma, but she knew better. The drugs had probably already been worked completely out of his system and his natural Gallifreyan healing instinct had kicked in to return his body to its previous pre-trauma state. 

Yet another thing to gloss over, hide the information about, and conceal any leakage to the outside world. Thank goodness she had an experienced ally who knew the ropes where all the paperwork was concerned.

Jack had already been up to take over security measures, offering support, waylaying the consultant, schmoozing the nurses, and had been an absolute star. He was currently getting them both a much needed coffee from a vending machine in the corridor outside. 

The Jack that had entered the hospital emergency room a couple of hours beforehand was not the same Jack she had met just before they’d landed on the Crucible. No, this Jack had been through a great deal more loss in his life and had had some of his chirpiness stripped away. Such a shame. Martha had told her a lot about Jack, so Donna had been a little saddened and disappointed that she hadn’t seen him in full flirt, as it were. 

Still, he had gamely laughed at her feeble joke that the Doctor might turn up on their tenth wedding anniversary married to another woman. She suspected that he had run into Professor River Song already, and that that was what kept him so firmly away from them. 

I mean, who needed a dumpy ex-temp type of wife when you can have a real and proper university professor with real technical qualifications and miles more confidence than Simon Cowell? Obviously not him. Or anyone else, for that matter. Not since Shaun Temple had wisely scarpered out of her life; but it had been nice being the centre of his world for a brief few months. Time and taste wait for no man, if you’ll pardon the deliberate misquote. Jack had laughed at that joke too. 

The darkness outside was starting to lighten. Stray beams of sunlight were peeping over the edge of the horizon.

Her gaze and thoughts landed fondly back on her son, and she couldn’t resist caressing his cheek or sweeping his fringe out of his unseeing eyes. Both of them were shipwrecked on this planet but at least this time they were together and had each other for support. The yearning of the stars still hurt but they were coping, gradually, with that. 

“Mum,” a sleepy voice mumbled.

She was over by his side in a shot; just in time for Jack to re-enter the room holding two cups of coffee and hear him. “Is he awake?” Jack wondered in amazement. 

“Looks like it,” Donna confirmed, and then focused her attention on the figure in the bed. “Shhh! You’re supposed to be asleep, letting all that Time Lord healing take place,” she tenderly soothed him. 

“Then get rid of all this,” he retorted as fervently as he could in his feeble state. His fingers plucked at the oxygen tube, trying to dislodge it. “It’s stopping the natural process.”

“Let us do that,” she offered, slapping away his hand. “Jack will help me. Kids, eh?”

That gained her a gentle smile, which she suspected was relief. 

It was as they removed the very last wire and Jack finally got his chance to hand over that anticipated coffee that a familiar wheezing and whirring sound sprung up, along with a mini whirlwind.

“Trust him to turn up when all the squeamish stuff has ended,” she jested, swiping a stray lock of hair out of the way; and waited for the Doctor to make his normal dramatic entrance.


	2. Chapter 2

The familiar noise intensified, filling the room; and then sanctuary appeared. How she had longed for this moment. Right in front of her materialised the TARDIS. The old girl was a little different to how she remembered her, but the essentials were still same. As was the song of welcome that burst into her head.

Donna could have easily cried with joy at having her mind filled in such a way again. Evidently her son was aware of it too, judging by the response she felt from him. 

There was a huge beaming smile on her face when the scent of the Doctor hit her senses and with some surprise she recognised Caecilius dressed in a modern velvet suit as he stepped out of the TARDIS. Her gaze remained on the doors, expecting to see someone else come out; but they didn’t. 

Caecilius gaped at her. Evidently he remembered too. 

“Where is he then? Had enough time to go on a sightseeing tour, with a suitable souvenir,” she remarked to the astonished man before her. “Come on, Doctor! Stop hiding in there,” she then called out in exasperation. “It’s rude of you to leave poor Caecilius standing here like a lemon.”

The man in question surprised her by smiling knowingly at Jack. He even stepped forward to eagerly shake his hand. “Good to see you, Jack. Thank you for looking after things for me.”

“You what!” Donna gasped out. “How do you know Jack?”

A stern gaze from beneath thick grey eyebrows was turned onto her. “Donna, it’s me. The Doctor.”

“But… You’re Caecilius. I’d know you anywhere,” she spluttered.

“Obviously not,” the Doctor dryly commented. “I merely took his face.”

“It really is the Doctor,” Jack helpfully added. “I met this version of him back on Chetwel. Why don’t I leave you all to your family reunion? I could do with a breath of fresh air.”

“Yes do that, Jack,” the Doctor replied; even adding in a faint smile. “But I’d hardly call Donna family.” 

In any other circumstances Jack would have been amused by the embarrassed flush on Donna’s face, but in this case he was deeply concerned for her well-being. She’d been through a lot, so to be so easily dismissed by the Doctor in this latest incarnation must have been devastating. “I’ll be downstairs in the foyer if you need me, Donna,” he informed her, giving her hand a brief supportive squeeze. “Let me know what’s happening.”

“Will do,” she replied, and numbly watched him leave the room so that she was technically alone with this new version of the Doctor. “How’s River?” she forced herself to ask.

To her consternation, his face sunk into a grimace. “Gone to The Library.” 

Even after all these years she could still hear that big ol’ ‘The’ in his tone. “Sorry,” she murmured. “Must be hard for you to lose her again.”

He ignored the comment, just as she had expected him to do. Instead, he swung his attention on to the body prone in the bed. Leaning closely over their son, the Doctor whirled his sonic about and then proclaimed, “Quick! We have to get him into the TARDIS. Can you help me push the bed in?” 

“Of course, Doctor,” Donna readily agreed; grasping hold of the handles on the bed before the words had finished leaving his mouth. 

Between them they easily manoeuvred the bed into the console room, and on towards the inner sanctum where the med bay could be found. All of it was much darker in tone with the decorations than the version she was familiar with, but then what had she expected? Time Lords move on just like other people do. At least it looked cleaner now. 

“We need to subjugate the quantum isotopes held within his system,” the Doctor rambled on, picking various bits and pieces up before dismissing them and throwing them to the floor. “A remarkable coalition, you must admit. Archanian, was it? Thought so,” he continued as though she had spoken. “It will take a little time, but the quaffix should hold. And then we can set the final procedure.”

Finding his expectant gaze suddenly on her, she provided the question he obviously wanted. “What’s the final procedure?”

“Why, a Gallifreyan splice,” he supplied.

“Sounds like a weird sort of cake,” she commented to no one in particular. Drawing in a breath, she then asked, “Who exactly will be providing this splice? You or me?”

“Oh it will be me,” he determined. The following sneer did him no favours. “There will be no need for you to do anything.”

“Now look here, Sunshine!” she grouched, shoving an irate digit in his face. “You may have placed yourself up on a godly pedestal again, but that doesn’t make you the bee’s knees.”

“I am far more important than the knees of a bee, Donna; and infinitely more clever.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“I don’t need to,” he smugly replied. His attention was then focused on an overhead monitor, that he tapped fervently on with his index finger, before scowling. “Why are you still here?” he threw over his shoulder at Donna.

“Why?” she spluttered in disbelief. “Do you even know who you have got on that examination table? That is my son, for your information. I saw him practically die this evening in a horrific accident after being targeted by a revengeful alien.”

The Doctor gazed at her in consternation. “Why do you think he is your son? He is an abomination who should have stayed in the alternate universe with Rose where I sent him. But it’s too late now to send him back.”

A loud growl of anger wrenched its way out of her throat, as she sprung up off the stool she had briefly perched herself and bore down on the Doctor. Blinded with rage, she lashed out, slapping him hard. WHACK!

He staggered dramatically sideways. “What was that for?!”

“You idiot! My son,” she spat out through gritted teeth, “is the most precious thing in my life. I would rather die than have him taken from me again. And all you can talk about is Rose bloody Tyler and your need for her to keep him as a consolation prize.” Donna got right in his face to push her point home. “Well you aren’t going to pull that trick on me this time. Have you got that, Time boy?!”

“Your anger is a little unnecessary,” he commented nonchalantly.

Her blood almost boiled with rage. “Get away from him! Take your scrawny arse back to your latest clinging love interest,” she ordered, pacing up and down like a caged tiger. “To think he has been looking forward to seeing you again; has referred to you as his father all this time. You don’t deserve him, and never will. It’s at times like these that I thank God Jenny didn’t get the chance to see you fail her too.”

That blow struck home, and the Doctor’s face turned to thunder. “That is low; especially for you.”

“The truth hurts,” she bit back. “I dread to think who you would have sold her off to as yet another reward for someone acting selfishly. And don’t even try to pretend that you weren’t aware how selfish Rose was for jumping from dimension to dimension,” she warned him. “But lucky her got her reward anyway!”

“She saved my life.”

“Did she? Well bully for her,” Donna mocked, clearly not impressed. “My son saved all the known universes from being obliterated by the Daleks, yet he got to be a sex slave; and an experimental pincushion for Torchwood. Wasn’t that just peachy?” 

“Surely you exaggerate,” he reasoned.

She shook her head sadly. “I wish I was exaggerating, but I’m not. They’d already killed him when I got to him.”

The Doctor thoughtfully considered the lad before them. “And you say he calls me…”

“…Dad,” she finished for him. “And me, ‘Mum’.” She gave a shrug. “Seemed right, somehow, being as he is part me and part you. A previous you,” she tacked on for clarification. When his wary gaze didn’t falter, she continued, “I know you don’t do domestics or anything close to it, so we’ll be on our way once he has woken up; if that’s what you want.”

In answer, to hide the fact he was mulling it over; the Doctor leaned close, and examined their son again, peering beneath eyelids and taking blood pressure readings. “What name did he choose?” he suddenly wondered.

At last she could allow more positive feelings to emerge. Having a name aids acceptance. “Marcus John Irving Noble,” she proudly supplied, noting the Doctor’s twitch at the mention of his late brother. “Nothing to do with me; I’d have chosen something else entirely.”

“Marcus,” he echoed, rolling the name around in his head; acknowledging the Donna part of her son, _their_ son, which would have wanted to celebrate that. “Then we’d better begin.”


End file.
